


come home to my heart

by citrusflower



Category: QCYN2, Saving Face (2004), THE9 (Band), youth with you 2, 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV), 青春有你2, 青春有你2 | Youth With You 2 (TV)
Genre: (nothing outwardly violent or physical), Alternate Universe - New York City, Alternate Universe - Saving Face (2004), Angst with a Happy Ending, Doctors, F/F, Family Dynamics, Found Family, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Profanity, XinXue - Freeform, can't believe this is currently the only xxxy fic i will be writing more, dance, implied Dai Meng/Xu Jiaqi, mention of smoking cigarettes, xxxy - Freeform, yani - Freeform, yu yan has so many friends and it's what she deserves!, yuni - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:41:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25505362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/citrusflower/pseuds/citrusflower
Summary: Jenny narrows her eyes, mock-serious. “Aren’t you a doctor? You need tonourishyour body, that’s the most, most,mostimportant thing.” She purses her lips and turns back to the rows of snacks. “How about… that?” she says, pointing at a granola bar. “It’s got peanuts.”“And a shit-ton of carcinogens,” Yu Yan deadpans, but she runs out of steam when her eyes fall on Jenny’s mouth, her jawline, the soft feathering of her eyelashes.Jenny notices. Her mouth curls a little. “Sometimes…” — and her eyes seem to flicker down to Yu Yan’s lips, if three hours of sleep isn’t making her hallucinate — “…your body knows what you really want.”
Relationships: Kong Xue'er/Liu Yuxin, Xie Keyin/Xu Xinwen, Yu Yan/Zeng Keni, 刚好喻见妮, 昕雪, 馨馨相寅
Comments: 21
Kudos: 76
Collections: Director's Cut Fest





	come home to my heart

**Author's Note:**

> written for director’s cut fest! fic based on saving face (2004, dir. alice wu), one of my favorite movies of all time. as a chinese american lesbian, chinese american lesbian representation with a happy ending means so much to me.
> 
> this started out as a simple thing based off the realization that yu yan is wil energy (small soft butch-ish stoic prodigy) and keni is vivian energy (tall flirty dancer who just has that smile) and then kind of ballooned into its own universe. see if you can spot all the scene and character parallels!
> 
> note: while i really love that the original takes on a wide variety of plot points (including but not limited to: pregnancy in older women out of wedlock, anti-Blackness in asian american families), for this fic universe i wanted to focus on the relationship between yu yan and keni and between yu yan and her mom. however, reminder that educating yourself on and fighting against anti-Black racism is extremely important, especially now. as you may know, <https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/> is a great general resource to uplift, and there are many more. donate to bail funds! work to abolish the p0l!c3 (i promise this is relevant to the story!).
> 
> i loved this detail in the movie and it’s a little more difficult to convey in written form, but: keep in mind that pretty much everyone is multilingual! as was the case for wil, yu yan and characters her age can understand chinese but reply mostly in english. honestly it doesn’t matter too much in the end.
> 
> the use of chinese here is such that translations are not necessary to understand the fic (most chinese meanings can be inferred via context), but i have included them in endnotes if you are curious!
> 
> title from lorde - [“supercut”](https://open.spotify.com/track/6K8VQ84MqhsoakN5MjrnVR?si=2GYrS_r_RjSgBAe6X0NByA).

_I want to tell you this story without having to confess anything,_

— richard siken, “the torn up road”

“Late,” her mother tsks when Yu Yan steps through the door.

“Got held up,” Yu Yan grumbles back. Which is partly true: the ED had been packed; there was a delay on the 7. No one has to know that she chose the longest route to the station.

Her mother ignores her. “Look at you,” she continues, walking over to fuss with the collar of Yu Yan’s rumpled button-up. “So boyish. People are going to think…”

“Yu Yan!” Her grandma appears in the hallway, crackling and familiar. “Just in time.”

“ _Look_ at her,” her mother repeats, making Yu Yan feel like she’s twelve, not twenty-six. “Isn’t this too manly?”

“It’s practical,” Wài Pó says, reaching over for a hug. “I wore things like this all the time when I was young.” Yu Yan hides a little in Wài Pó’s neck, childish, breathing in her familiar medicinal scent. “Come on,” Wài Pó says. “Let’s get you something to eat.”

  
  
  
  
  


“So,” Wài Pó says as she holds onto Yu Yan’s arm, guiding them both to the banquet table. Yu Yan’s posture is very straight; in the big hall, it always feels like Flushing’s entire Chinese community is watching.

“Mm?” Yu Yan says, even though she knows what’s coming. She picks up two plates at the beginning of the long table; Wài Pó shakes her head, and Yu Yan returns one to its stack.

“Silly child, why are you always like this,” Wài Pó says. “You know I want you to be happy, right?”

Yu Yan pretends to scrutinize her chopsticks. “I know, Wài Pó.”

“When will you find someone who makes you happy?”

Yu Yan sighs. “I _am_ happy.” She reaches for the tongs and ferries some stir-fried noodles onto her plate. Wài Pó’s hands stay around her left forearm.

“I know _you’re_ happy,” Wài Pó says. “You should find a nice boy to be happy with, too.”

“I’m busy,” Yu Yan says. “I just started at the hospital, and I need to do well this first year.”

Wài Pó tsks. _Not you, too,_ Yu Yan thinks. There’s a long moment of silence. Yu Yan repeats the ferrying process with mustard greens, then rice cake.

“Well, you’re getting older, and I’m also getting older,” Wài Pó says at last. “I just want you to find someone who will be good to you.”

“I know,” Yu Yan says, a little more softly. She turns to look at Wài Pó, sees the wrinkles around her eyes, the freckling of old age on her face. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

  
  
  
  
  


“Anyone catch your eye?” Dai Meng says, later. They’ve escaped from their families and are sitting together at one of the back tables with _tāngyuán_ , black sesame, the way they like it. 

“ _Heyyyyy_ ,” Yu Yan whines, fake-shoving her. “Not you too.”

Dai Meng raises a brow. “That bad, huh.” Dai Meng’s the only person who makes these things bearable.

“ _Wài Pó_ asked again,” Yu Yan grumbles. “And I can tell Mom’s dying to bring it up.”

Dai Meng shakes her head sympathetically. “Well…” she says, tapping her temple, “You know I’m not _really_ asking the same thing.”

Yu Yan rolls her eyes. “Fine. But everyone’s the same here these days,” she muses, letting her eyes meander across the room. The dance floor tonight is pretty bland: a few geriatric couples attempting a waltz. “Wait. Who’s that?”

“Hmm?” Dai Meng leans over. “Use your words, babe.”

“Tall, white off-shoulder shirt, with the lady in red by the stage.”

Dai Meng’s mouth widens into a grin. “Oh Yu _Yan_!” she says, slapping her arm. “Look at you.”

“ _What_ ,” Yu Yan huffs. “Don’t be mean.”

“Jenny Zeng. Big deal ballerina at the City Ballet,” Dai Meng says conspiratorially. “You into dancers?”

 _Jenny…_ Something about her seems familiar, but Yu Yan can’t place it. She squints and scrunches up her nose instead. “What kind of name is Jenny? _Jennnnny_ ,” she repeats, stretching it out.

Dai Meng smirks. “Oh, you are _so_ into her.”

“Am not,” Yu Yan cuts back, faking a shove at Dai Meng. “I am rightfully appalled by that abomination of letters.”

“See if she’ll tell you her Chinese name, then,” Dai Meng winks, and Yu Yan shoves her for real this time.

  
  
  
  
  


“Someone looks happy,” Yuxin comments as they’re scrubbing in the next morning.

Out of everyone in clinic, Yuxin’s probably the one Yu Yan is closest to, especially with all their similarities, _first-gen Chinese American lesbians with no English names_ aside: the same purposeful drive, meticulous attention to detail. Yuxin grew up in California, though, and likes neurosurgery, while Yu Yan’s been in New York basically her whole life and favors cardiothoracic (she doesn’t have to talk to the patient, especially _during the procedure_ — how Yuxin _enjoys_ it, she’ll never know).

“Be grateful you don’t have to go to those things,” Yu Yan rolls her eyes as she takes her shoes off and puts them at the bottom of her locker.

“What things?” Yuxin says, before she realizes. “Oh, that monthly banquet thing. Yeah, we didn’t even really have those in Berkeley.” She slides her lock through the locker hole and clicks it shut.

“Well,” Yu Yan singsongs. “If you ever need a social scene.”

Yuxin grins as she straightens her scrubs. “Sincere apologies. I like my social scene just fine.”

“Friday night video call wine dates?” Yu Yan raises a brow, teasing. “Sure.”

“I have friends!” Yuxin says, mock-indignantly. And she does. Yu Yan — she isn’t sure if envy is the right word, but she looks with a sort of — admiration at how Yuxin seems to float easily between all of her friends, from California to New York to Guizhou and everywhere between and beyond. Her relationship with Xue’er on top of everything makes Yu Yan’s head spin.

Long distance. Yu Yan doesn’t know how people do it. She wonders what it’s like to know. To be sure.

  
  
  
  
  


“Is that the good guy?” Yu Yan whispers to her mom, pointing to the tall, smartly-dressed man on the screen. It’s weekly drama night and her mom’s just started this old ’80s one about forbidden hetero love or something. Yu Yan can never identify the hero.

“No,” her mom says. “He’s marrying her for money.”

“Is _that_ the good guy?” Yu Yan points at a shorter man, a little younger-looking, walking with the first.

“No. That’s his brother.”

“Well, who’s that guy?” A sharp-looking man in a double-breasted coat, striding down the street.

“He’s the most evil of them all. He wants to ruin her family to avenge a grudge.”

“Oh,” Yu Yan says. The scene shifts. “Who’s the loser they’re beating up?”

“That’s the good guy.”

  
  
  
  
  


“Hey!”

Yu Yan looks up from the screen of the fare machine to see Keyin flying down the stairs. She hits “No Receipt”, pockets her Metrocard, and turns to receive the front end of one of Keyin’s full-body tackle hugs. “Hey, dude,” she laughs, pleasantly surprised. “Missed you at Planet China.”

“Shut up, you know I can’t go to those things.” Yu Yan can hear the smile in Keyin’s voice, gravelly and familiar. “Got this for ya.” She steps back and presses this week’s envelope of herbal supplements into Yu Yan’s hands.

“God, Keyin,” Yu Yan grins. “Be less conspicuous. People are gonna think.”

Keyin rolls her eyes and points her finger lightly into Yu Yan’s chest. “People are only gonna think if _you_ think. Also fuck the cops.” She looks at Yu Yun, scrutinizing, and her face slides into a frown. “How are ya?”

Yu Yan shrugs. “Life is life.”

“Booooooring,” Keyin says. “I’ll dig the secrets outta you next time.” She gestures to the envelope. “Take it, okay? Red sage. You can steep it in tea. Good for your heart.”

Yu Yan feels a smile tug at her mouth. “’Kay. Thanks.”

Keyin turns briefly as she walks away. “Chin up, okay? Love ya.” Then she’s gone.

  
  
  
  
  


Yu Yan rifles through her pockets in dismay. She’s a quarter short. It’s the secret vending machine in the back hall of the surgery wing that only she uses because all the snacks suck.

“Need change?”

“Oh my God, you scared me.” Yu Yan says, and turns to see — the girl from Planet China. Today: a soft-looking purple shirt that drapes across her shoulders. Jeans. She’s taller up close.

“Sorry,” the girl says, and she does look it. “Hey. Jenny.” She sticks out her hand.

“Right,” Yu Yan says mildly. “Yu Yan.” She reaches out and shakes. Jenny’s grip is light but firm. “I think I… saw you at the monthly banquet thing in Flushing? Um… Imperial Palace.”

“Oh,” Jenny says. “Yeah, I was there.” She pauses, like she’s trying to remember. “Did we talk?”

“No,” Yu Yan feels her face flush. “I was only there for a bit at the end. But I don’t think I’d seen you there before?”

“Nah,” Jenny says, fiddling with her nails. “I usually have rehearsal.”

“Rehearsal?”

Jenny makes a face. “I’m a soloist at the City Ballet.”

“Oh, right,” Yu Yan says. “My friend Dai Meng said you were a dancer.” Jenny fake-curtsies. She’s too pretty for the surgery back hall.

“Dai Meng, huh…” Jenny rolls her eyes playfully. “Yeah, I am.”

The silence that lapses between them feels more comfortable now. “Oh, yeah,” Jenny says, digging into her pocket and fishing out a few quarters. “Here.”

“Ah, no,” Yu Yan says. “It’s fine.”

“ _Take_ it.” Jenny insists, pressing the coins into Yu Yan’s hands.

“Thanks,” Yu Yan mumbles, and turns to the vending machine.

Jenny pops up on her right side as she taps through her choices. “Is that what you’re gonna eat?” Her voice is curious, bemused.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Yu Yan says, a little incredulous.

“Not really,” Jenny says. “Just waiting for my dad.”

Yu Yan blinks. “Is he… okay?”

“I mean, I guess,” Jenny says. “He works here. We do lunch sometimes.” She looks back at the vending machine. “Are you really getting a Pop-Tart?”

“Yeah,” Yu Yan says. “Two grams of protein.” She tries to sound chipper.

Jenny narrows her eyes, mock-serious. “Aren’t you a doctor? You need to _nourish_ your body, that’s the most, most, _most_ important thing.” She purses her lips and turns back to the rows of snacks. “How about… that?” she says, pointing at a granola bar. “It’s got peanuts.”

“And a shit-ton of carcinogens,” Yu Yan deadpans, but she runs out of steam when her eyes fall on Jenny’s mouth, her jawline, the soft feathering of her eyelashes.

Jenny notices. Her mouth curls a little. “Sometimes…” — and her eyes seem to flicker down to Yu Yan’s lips, if three hours of sleep isn’t making her hallucinate — “…your body knows what you really want.”

  
  
  
  
  


“Ugh,” Yu Yan groans as she and Yuxin walk down the hall on break. “I can’t wait to be asleep.”

“Hey, no downer talk,” Yuxin says, good-naturedly, even though Yu Yan can tell she’s tired too. “We’re gonna make it through.”

First-year residency is weeks of torture sandwiched between weeks of lighter torture. Today, they’re on hour five of a sixteen-hour shift.

“‘Pull this knob’?” Yuxin reads as they arrive at the vending machine. There’s an envelope taped to it. “Look, it’s addressed to you.” Yu Yan squints at it. _ATTN: Dr. Y. Yu._

 _Pull this knob!_ is written above a fancy hand-drawn arrow. Yu Yan flips the envelope over and opens it.

Two quarters are taped to a piece of paper. Underneath:

_Some extra change._

_My show opens two weeks from now at Dancespace. 6pm._

_— J._

“Wow,” Yuxin says, and Yu Yan looks up to see her grinning. “I only ever see you smile like that in surgery.”

  
  
  
  
  


Yu Yan stands awkwardly on the street as everyone else files out of the theater. It rained during the show; the asphalt is shiny black now, wet, reflecting Manhattan like some French painting.

The performance was — good. Experimental, for sure, Jenny whirling like fire in a group of dancers that rippled and pulsed like a wave, only to freeze suddenly, the music cutting out so fast that for a moment Yu Yan had been sure there’d been a tech issue, if not for Jenny’s body illuminated with intent atop the throng, her fingers reaching for something invisible, eyes turned skyward, lit up with awe. Yu Yan had felt held in place, afraid to exhale and shatter the moment.

Now, Jenny has just emerged from the front door. A small crowd of people dips around her, approaching and leaving in a procession that could almost be stately.

Yu Yan watches her stand under the light, lovely in the middle of everyone again, a cigarette perched between her fingers, collarbones bare above the top of her black camisole. She’s nodding graciously, joking around with the people closest to her — beautiful people, tall and model-like.

She catches Yu Yan’s eye, then, and pauses, the warm glow of the cigarette the only movement on her. Yu Yan makes a face, embarrassed, and Jenny raises her eyebrows, almost like a _Come over?_ Whoever she’s talking to, back currently facing Yu Yan, turns to look too. A pretty face, slender and delicate, framed by hair long and fine like silk, thin hoop earrings quivering slightly in the air. Yu Yan ducks her head and begins to walk over.

As she approaches, the people around Jenny begin to disperse.

“You were absolutely wonderful,” Yu Yan hears in the murmur of the polite goodbye hugs, the _See you soon!_ ’s.

“Thanks for coming,” Jenny says, and smiles. Hoop Earrings lingers for a bit as Yu Yan approaches, expression impassive but seemingly inquisitive underneath, before finally giving Yu Yan a small nod, exchanging a last peck on the cheek with Jenny, and slipping away.

“Hey,” Yu Yan says, a little laugh on her lips. She makes a vague gesture to their now empty surroundings. “Wow, I must really be insufferable.”

Jenny grins. “Nah.” Her voice is easy as she dips her head to take another drag, looking up at Yu Yan through her eyelashes as she does so. “I just told them I had a date.”

“Oh,” Yu Yan says, feeling something flare, warm and surprising, in her chest.

Jenny’s eyes twinkle at her, cat-like. “Don’t worry about Lingzi. She’s just protective.” She exhales another wisp of smoke and looks up at Yu Yan again, her gaze sly and slow like molasses. “So… Where to now, Doctor?”

  
  
  
  
  


They end up at the thrift shop, the mom-and-pop place Yu Yan’s been going to forever.

“My dad used to come here,” Yu Yan says, because it’s the only useful thing in her head right now. They’re walking down two parallel aisles, the open metal shelves running down the line between them.

Jenny makes a thoughtful noise. “Mine too,” she says, eyes flitting to a brown leather jacket on the upper shelf. She reaches up to touch the thick fleece lining. “This one he’d wear.”

Yu Yan watches her. “What does he do?”

Jenny’s eyes turn to her now. She holds eye contact through the shelf for a second, then glances deftly to the side, a half-hearted smirk on her face. “Judge me, fail me.” She laughs, a dry thing. “I can’t tell you how pissed he was when I wasn’t promoted to principal this season. And now he’s just hoping I’ll get that gig with the Paris Opera Ballet.” She turns slightly to peruse the other side of her shelf.

“Paris?” Yu Yan says, a little struck. “Sounds impressive.”

Jenny shrugs. “Gives him something to hope for.”

Yu Yan reaches the end of her aisle. “He must be proud of this new show.”

Jenny rolls her eyes as she walks up to join her. “He thinks modern dance was created by a bunch of wild-haired hippie dropouts.”

“I loved it,” Yu Yan says, honestly. “I’m sure… if he just saw the show.”

“Maybe you could tell him.” Jenny’s eyes are on her again, careful, poised.

Yu Yan furrows her brows, not understanding.

“He’s your boss,” Jenny says.

Yu Yan makes a very undignified noise that sounds like a squeak.

“Relax,” Jenny says, as they turn back down their own aisles. “He’s too consumed by his own life to pay any attention to mine. As long as he can trot out his daughter, the _prima ballerina_.” She makes a face. “The modern gig is just for fun while I’m on sabbatical. I kind of love it, but…” She pauses to pat another jacket, this one dark green, smooth-looking. “Maybe he’s right. Most girls would kill for my spot at City, and here I am, trying to _express myself_. I should just chuck the distractions… focus on being a bunhead.” She turns to look back at Yu Yan, a little mischievous, ponytail swinging in the air.

“That would really suck,” Yu Yan finds herself saying, seriously, realizing she hasn’t moved since Jenny started talking, and Jenny looks — surprised, almost. There’s the beginning of a smile in her mouth.

  
  
  
  
  


The night air is cool as they stumble back onto the street, the bell on the door jingling behind them.

“So…” Yu Yan says, as they walk. “How come we never met before now?”

“We did meet. I think,” Jenny tilts her head, looking at her, expression open, a little amused. “A long time ago. Outside the temple.”

Yu Yan blinks, shaking her head a little. “I don’t remember.”

“The Wong boys were teasing me about my parents’ divorce,” Jenny says. “You beat the _crap_ out of them.”

The memory begins to fade in now, like a dream: Flushing in the morning, early spring air; the old temple barely two steps from the big street. The feeling of anger, rolling through her; the crush of impact, her knuckles against skin. The sting of the antiseptic her mom applied later while scolding her, but only a little.

“You were wearing a red Mickey Mouse shirt and navy blue corduroys,” Jenny says. “You had this _really_ cute bowl cut.” She smiles, and Yu Yan feels herself blush.

“You spilled your mom’s groceries,” Jenny continues, her voice slower now, more thoughtful. “We scooped them into a bag.”

“That’s… right,” Yu Yan says. “And then…” The memory slides, suddenly, into focus.

“And then I kissed you on the nose,” Jenny says.

“And then you ran,” Yu Yan murmurs. The name slips easily back into her head, like a fish returned to water. “Zeng Keni.”

  
  
  
  
  


“My view,” Keni says. Yu Yan looks out over the Manhattan skyline, fading periwinkle in the twilight. A thick rug, glaringly orange, is soft under her feet.

“It’s nice,” she says.

Keni walks around her to the kitchen table. “Want something to drink?”

“Water’s fine, thanks.” Each word feels heavy, awkward on her tongue. She ambles over to the kitchen, noticing what look like kid scribble drawings on the fridge, and taps the primary color magnets holding them up. “What’s this?”

Keni looks up from where she’s gathered two glasses by the Brita on the counter. “Oh, that. I teach at the Arts Alliance.”

Yu Yan raises a brow. “You like kids?”

“Sometimes.” Keni hums. “Community outreach for the Ballet.” She pours the Brita; the sound is oddly calming. “Here.” Keni lifts her glass, like an offer, and Yu Yan pauses before woodenly raising her own glass to clink.

Keni’s gaze is piercing over the rim of her glass. Yu Yan tilts her chin and sips the water slowly, feels it slide coolly down her throat. “What do you teach?”

“Well, this week…” Keni shifts against the counter, letting her hair fall over her shoulder with a smile. “I’m teaching them how to fall without hurting themselves.”

Yu Yan blinks.

Keni brightens. “Here, I’ll show you,” she says, putting down her glass to touch Yu Yan’s wrist lightly. “Come on.”

“Oh, no — you don’t want to see me dance,” Yu Yan says, but she can feel herself smiling.

“Oh, now I _definitely_ do.” Keni’s grin is devilish. She reaches for Yu Yan’s glass, a questioning lift to her eyebrows, and giggles when Yu Yan finally surrenders it. Yu Yan lets Keni tug her to the orange rug she was just standing on, looking out at Manhattan. The sky is turning a dark blue now. She looks at Keni across from her, an arm’s length apart.

Keni inhales, holds her arms up in a ballet stance, and drops to the ground so fluidly that Yu Yan almost misses it.

“Oh my God,” Yu Yan says. “You just — ”

“Yeah,” Keni laughs as she gets back up. “You just fall.” And then she’s standing across from her again, poised and perfect. “Now you try.”

“I — I’ve never done this before,” Yu Yan stammers. “Is there a — Do you just — ”

“Don’t overthink it, Doctor Genius,” Keni is looking at her with a faintly amused look on her face, eyebrows raised above her grin. “See, like this.” She drops to the ground again, a bit more of a flourish in it this time.

Yu Yan snorts, but can’t help a little smile back. “Okay, City Ballet.” Keni rolls her eyes, but looks smug. And then more focused.

“Okay, here,” Keni scrambles up again, maneuvering her long legs in a way that somehow suggests a cat more than a baby deer. She steps toward Yu Yan and takes her hands. “When I say ‘fall’… You totally let go. You just fall. Okay?”

“What?” Yu Yan’s brain is still catching up to everything that’s changed in the past second: the soft warmth of Keni’s hands in hers, the way this new proximity makes them very close to each other. Keni’s eyes — earnest.

“Fall,” Keni says. Yu Yan can only stare.

“Okay…” Keni takes a step back and releases Yu Yan’s hands. “Fall.”

“Okay, _fall_.”

Yu Yan knows: How to read ECGs. How to activate the Achilles reflex. How to make sure a patient feels comfortable, safe. How to tell off the male residents when they’re being misogynistic; talk to the attendings when they say things like _The Orientals_ ; silence the men who leer at her on the street. How to graduate top of her class, in every class, and be placed at one of the best residencies in the U.S., so fortunate to be so close to her mom, her grandma.

What she doesn’t know: this.

She feels her shoulders hitch up in defense and starts to fold her arms against herself. “Sorry, I’m… bad at this stuff.”

“Falling?” Keni asks. “Nonsense.” A bit of bravado colors her voice. “You can do it. You just have to know that you can.”

She tilts her head, looking thoughtful, then steps towards Yu Yan again. Then again. She places her hand back on Yu Yan’s wrist, and Yu Yan feels herself begin to relax, decides to let Keni unfold her. Keni is much closer than the arm’s length she was earlier, eyes clear with a teacher’s focus, and Yu Yan holds her gaze. She’s so close; the world seems to narrow as she gets closer. When Yu Yan registers, with a jolt, that Keni is beginning to tuck her nose around hers, the warmth of her mouth ghosting towards her, she thinks, like an alarm, _Escape!_ The only way to go is down, abrupt. She’s grateful for the plush rug.

Keni joins her on the ground a second later, smiling almost in awe. “Hey, you okay? I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Yu Yan feels a grin spreading on her face, against her will. “No, it’s fine. That was…” Her eyes flit everywhere before landing on Keni’s again. “Fun,” she says, surprising herself.

“Hmm,” Keni says, a smile playing at her lips. “I’m full of fun ideas.” She shifts a little so she’s leaning on her side, elbow propping up her body, and lifts a hand slowly, gently to Yu Yan’s face. “Is this okay?” she says, her voice soft.

“Yeah,” Yu Yan whispers. Keni’s thumb traces the edges of Yu Yan’s lips, and then her hand is settling on top of Yu Yan’s, guiding it gently to touch Keni’s own mouth, the soft heat of it. Then Keni is leaning in, dark hair spilling over her shoulders and trailing across the carpet as she edges closer, closer…

“So how was that?” Keni laughs, low and deep, when they come up for air.

Yu Yan feels flushed, warm, tingly. She looks at Keni pointedly and shrugs. “Fun.”

Keni laughs, loud and bright, and they stay like that together on the soft orange rug, laughing into the open air of the night.

  
  
  
  
  


“Hi, Mom,” Yu Yan calls as she lets herself in.

Her mom is already curled up on the couch, hands around a take-out carton, eyes fixed on the T.V.

“Still that drama?” Yu Yan says. 

Her mom shushes her, eyes not leaving the screen. “Look.” Her voice is soft. “They’re falling in love.”

  
  
  
  
  


“Hey, birthday girl,” Yu Yan calls as she jogs up onto the playground. “Got you something.”

Keni turns from where she’s crouched on the asphalt with the six-year-old she nannies. “Yu Yan?” she says, surprise on her face. She straightens as Yu Yan approaches, the full length of her long camel coat making her look even taller. “I thought you had work today.” The little girl — Emily, Yu Yan remembers — runs off to a group of other kids.

“Lunch break,” Yu Yan grins. “I bargained for an hour. Here.” She pulls the two hot dogs out from behind her back with a flourish, still steaming a little in their paper sleeves from the food truck. “Happy birthday.”

“You and your food choices,” Keni rolls her eyes, but takes one. “So this is my gift?”

“Yeah, wait, come here. I have ketchup.” Keni steps in closer, darting a quick peck to Yu Yan’s cheek, and Yu Yan digs through her bag before pulling out the real surprise: a small bouquet of sunflowers, fresh from the farmer’s market on the way to the park.

“Yu Yan!” Keni says, eyes lighting up.

Yu Yan gets on her tiptoes to press a light kiss to Keni’s jaw as she tucks the bouquet into her arms. “Happy birthday,” she says again, this time a whisper.

“Wish I met you a few weeks earlier,” Keni murmurs, smile dimpling as she tucks a strand of Yu Yan’s hair behind her ear. “Then I could have pulled all sort of pranks on you, too.”

“It’s okay,” Yu Yan smirks. “You were my gift.”

Keni pretends to gag. “So… you’re coming tonight, right?”

“Of course,” Yu Yan says. “I should get off at 6.”

“Okay,” Keni says, a small smile on her face. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  
  
  
  
  


“Six surgeries?” Yu Yan says, almost in disbelief as she walks back into the control room. “Goddamn sick people.”

Yuxin, surgical mask pushed down and tucked under her chin, shoots her a questioning glance from where she’s reading an X-ray on the wall.

Yu Yan makes a face. “Sorry. I just promised Keni I’d meet her friends for her birthday tonight.”

Yuxin raises her eyebrows and pulls her mask up over her nose. “Birthday _and_ meeting the friends, huh?” Her eyes are playful, if a little concerned. “Sounds important.”

“Don’t I know it,” Yu Yan says.

  
  
  
  
  


“Keni, I’m really sorry, we had some emergencies,” Yu Yan says into voicemail at 5 in the evening, mask dangling from one ear in the hallway outside the surgical wing. “I can’t get out of here until 8.”

“I’m so sorry, it’ll be closer to 9,” she says, half an hour later, and hangs up. She bites her lip as she dials the hospital’s florist. “Hi,” she says. “This is Dr. Yu.”

“10,” Yu Yan says into the phone an hour later, trying to will a sense of finality into the number, feeling defeated. “10.” Yuxin looks up at her as she walks back into the control room. _I’m sorry,_ she seems to say.

She’s finally standing by the locker mirror at 9:30 P.M., looking at her tired face in the mirror, when Dr. Zeng pops his head into the room. “Hey, Yu Yan, there’s a last-minute preop. I have to run. Can you take it?”

Yuxin’s eyes are sad over her mask when Yu Yan joins her in the operating room.

  
  
  
  
  


Yu Yan knocks.

A moment later, the door opens to Keni, hair curled in a high ponytail and falling around her face. “Everyone’s gone home,” she says, and her mouth is pressed into a thin line.

Yu Yan bites her lip. “Can I come in?”

Keni looks at her. “I’m not sure.”

Yu Yan nods. “…Okay.” She looks down. She doesn’t know what to do, so she turns away.

“That’s it?” Keni’s voice stops her in place.

Yu Yan turns, leaning against the wall, and looks at her. “…You didn’t want me to stay.”

“I didn’t say you should leave,” Keni says, and Yu Yan’s stomach is frozen, she’s still frozen, standing in the hallway, unsure. The air seems to hang still between them. Then Keni sighs. “Never mind.”

Yu Yan swallows. Then sees the matching floral arrangements past Keni, inside.

Keni follows her gaze. “That one’s from you,” she points. “That one’s from my dad,” she says, flatly.

Yu Yan winces. “I’m an idiot.”

Keni looks down.

“What if I stay the night?” Yu Yan says.

Keni’s eyes flit back up. She looks — timid, a look Yu Yan thought she’d never see on her. “The whole night?”

Yu Yan wills herself to step forward, sound sure. “The whole night.”

Keni looks at her again and a little smile blossoms across her face. She holds her hand out to take Yu Yan’s, dragging her in.

“Happy birthday,” Yu Yan whispers, and then she kisses her, and kisses her, and kisses her.

  
  
  
  
  


Later, Keni’s voicemail beeps.

“ _Wéi_ , Jenny-ah?”

Yu Yan freezes and jolts back from where she’s kissing down Keni’s jaw. Keni looks nonplussed and almost a little petulant.

“This is Mom,” the voice continues. “Just calling to say hi. Hope your birthday good.”

“You wanna get that?” Yu Yan whispers.

“ _No_ , oh my God.”

The voicemail crackles. “Did Yu Yan show up?”

Yu Yan locks eyes with Keni again, eyes wide, half in disbelief.

“Thought you may wanna talk after she leaves.” There’s a pause. “Oh, maybe she’s still there? … Okay. Bye.”

“Oh my God,” Yu Yan grabs the covers and pulls them over their bodies, a little breathless. “You talk to your mom about us?”

“Yeah,” Keni looks up at her, a tiny smile on her face. “So?”

“‘So’?” Yu Yan says, fighting back a grin. “Does she know we have sex?”

“No, silly. She thinks we conjugate Latin verbs.”

Yu Yan raises a brow. “Okay.” She smiles, sinking down again to Keni’s jaw, Keni’s hand guiding her lower, lower, lower. “Don’t tell her too much.”

  
  
  
  
  


“I can hear your stomach,” Keni giggles from where her head is pillowed on Yu Yan’s abdomen.

It’s a lazy Sunday; they’re splayed out on Keni’s orange rug.

“Mm?” Yu Yan lifts her head a little to look at her, feeling a smile playing at her lips. “What’s it say?”

“ _Blub_ ,” Keni grins. “ _Blub_.” She pauses and squints like she’s calculating something. “Hmm. It’s not very articulate.”

Yu Yan raises a brow teasingly. “Oh, but yours is?”

Keni pretends to flip her hair. “ _Mine_ sings arias… spouts poetry, proofs.”

“My mom used to do that,” Yu Yan says, musing. “Put me right to sleep.”

“Really?” Keni perks up. “I bet she has some great tips on how to deal with you.” She takes Yu Yan’s hand and runs her thumb over the top of it, looking into the distance. “We should… We should get together and compare notes.”

Yu Yan exhales a laugh, sharp. “Thank God that’ll never happen,” she says, and immediately feels Keni stiffen slightly.

Keni rolls over so she’s on her stomach, turning to face Yu Yan head-on. “So... is this all we are?” Her tone is light, careful, but Yu Yan can tell it’s teetering.

“What?” Yu Yan says.

Keni sighs. “I mean… I’m just starting to feel like we’re having an _illicit affair_.” She waggles her eyebrows jauntily at the last bit, jokingly, but it feels empty. “Don’t get me wrong, I love holing up with you, but I’d like to meet your mom.”

“She’s not ready,” Yu Yan says, softly. Part of it is convincing herself.

Keni puts her hand on Yu Yan’s arm, cajolingly. “C’mon… Just tell her I’m a friend. A nice Chinese girl.”

Yu Yan snorts. “You’re not a nice Chinese girl.”

Keni rolls her eyes and fake-swats her. “I’ll fake it.”

“You don’t know my mom,” Yu Yan says.

“Exactly.” Keni’s smile is confident. Yu Yan wishes she could be that confident.

  
  
  
  
  


“Fish is good, Auntie,” Keni says, her Mandarin perfect.

Yu Yan’s mom nods and smiles. Yu Yan can tell it’s her _I am being nice to strangers_ smile. “So, what do you do?”

“Keni is a dancer,” Yu Yan says. Her mom’s gaze snaps up at her over the table.

“A go-go dancer?” Yu Yan’s mom asks drily, the fake joke in the air.

Keni laughs politely. “I dance with the New York City Ballet.”

“Ohhhhh,” Yu Yan’s mom nods. “ _bā lěi wǔ_.”

“But right now…” Keni says, looking down at her bowl. “I’m actually taking a little break to dance modern.”

“Modern?” Yu Yan’s mom says, tone scientifically curious.

“Less… classical,” — Keni makes a stiff ballet pose — “More… _expressive_.” She throws her hands out in a little move.

Yu Yan’s mom regards her with a carefully-composed expression. Keni doesn’t seem to notice.

“She’s very, very good,” Yu Yan says, feeling the need to defend her.

“Mm,” Yu Yan’s mom says, turning back to Keni. “So, how do you know Yu Yan?”

“We met at the hospital,” Keni says. “My dad is the chief of surgery.”

“Ah, that hospital,” Yu Yan’s mom says. “They work too hard there. I hardly get to see my baby.” She reaches out to pinch Yu Yan’s cheek.

“Me neither,” Keni says, coolly.

Yu Yan shoots her an urgent look over the table. Her mother looks, too, and pauses a little — not enough to be actively alarming, but enough for Yu Yan to sweat.

“So, Keni,” Yu Yan’s mom says, before Yu Yan can think of a way to divert the conversation, “Do you have a boyfriend?”

Keni smiles graciously. “No.”

Yu Yan’s mom raises her chin a little, her familiar insistence reappearing. “Pretty girl like you _must_ have lots of boys ask you out.”

Keni sits, back straight, graceful dancer, chopsticks hovering above her rice. “No,” she says again, calm.

“Come on,” Yu Yan says, pleading. “Let’s just eat.”

For once, she’s glad when her mom listens to her.

  
  
  
  
  


“Hey, dude,” Keyin says, hair wild under her beanie as Yu Yan walks up out of Chinatown station. “How was dinner?”

“Kind of awful,” Yu Yan says. “How’re you?”

Keyin grins, fiendish. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Yu Yan narrows her eyes. “You little trickster. Are you _seeing_ someone?”

Keyin raises her brows and shrugs exaggeratedly. “ _I_ ’unno.”

“Ugh, whatever,” Yu Yan groans, stuffing her hands into her coat pockets. “One day I’m gonna get you to finally tell me about your love life, _as it’s happening_.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Keyin says. “Hey — is that your _mom_?”

Yu Yan snaps her head up. It is her mom — standing under a storefront near her transfer station. “Mom?” she says as they get closer. “Wasn’t I supposed to meet you at yours?”

Her mom smiles, close-lipped. “I just wanted to spend more time with my baby. Hey, Keyin-ah,” she turns. “Isn’t my daughter beautiful?”

“She is,” Keyin says with a flourish and a bow, taking Yu Yan’s hand and looking at her with adoring gusto. “ _Tài piào liang le_.”

“Say thank you,” Yu Yan’s mom admonishes.

“Thank you,” Yu Yan rolls her eyes. “Ugh, c’mon, Mom, train gets here in 2.”

  
  
  
  
  


“Moon’s pretty tonight,” Keyin says as they sit onto her fire escape in Chinatown, the street bustling quietly a few stories below in the dark. Yu Yan is sharing a corner of the metal grating with a scraggly tomato plant and some basil.

“You’re turning soft,” Yu Yan chides. “What’s this girl done to you?”

“Shut up,” Keyin grumbles. She’s fiddling with her lighter, squinting at it as it sparks into flame, flashes out, sparks again.

“It is pretty,” Yu Yan says. “Is today an auspicious day for anything?”

“Being honest,” Keyin says, familiar grin on her face. She ignores Yu Yan’s eyeroll and digs a spliff out of her pocket, flicking her lighter again. When she exhales, the smoke is the clear smell of lavender. “We don’t have to talk about this, but… Are you and your mom okay?”

Yu Yan takes a deep breath. Tries to get the tension to leave her body. “Yeah, it’s just…”

Keyin tilts her head and looks at her, expression quieter, calmed from her daytime tiger’s fire. Yu Yan feels a rush of affection.

“I…” Yu Yan says. “I just feel like something’s gonna have to happen at some point, and I have no idea what or how.”

Keyin nods slowly. “Well… How much does she know?”

“She knows,” Yu Yan says. “I mean, in general.”

“What?” Keyin’s voice rasps up an octave, sudden like a squawk, funny if it weren’t so serious. She holds out the joint. Yu Yan takes it and continues, blowing smoke into the air.

“She dropped by my apartment a few years ago unannounced.”

“God,” Keyin says, voice low. “And?”

“Nothing,” Yu Yan says. “Dropped some dumplings on the table and left. We haven’t talked about it since.”

“Damn,” Keyin says, a little bit of a sigh, stretching out her legs so her sandaled feet prod a little at Yu Yan’s hip on the tiny fire escape. “I’m sorry.” The words that are unspoken seem to stretch into the sky above them.

  
  
  
  
  


“Hey,” Yu Yan smiles at Keni across the playground. “Special delivery.” She brings two hot dogs out from behind her back again.

Keni rolls her eyes and smiles, taking one.

“Are you guys gonna kiss?” A small, high voice says.

Yu Yan whips around to see the kid Keni babysits looking up at them. “No — _What?_ ” Next to her, Keni just looks amused.

“Are you going to French kiss when you go to Paris?” Emily says again.

“Go play on the jungle gym,” Keni says, light but firm. When she runs off, Keni turns back to Yu Yan. “I got the gig at the Paris Opera Ballet. Four-year contract.”

 _Oh_ , Yu Yan thinks. “Wow,” she says. “Wow, that’s great!” She’s walking, somehow, her legs carrying her past Keni and to the other side of the pull-up bar they were standing under. “Wow,” she says, to the air, almost, away from Keni. “I’m so proud of you. When are you leaving?”

Keni’s face is composed as she looks back. “I don’t know,” she says, finally. “Deadline to accept is next week.”

“Well, congratulations,” Yu Yan says, and tries to mean it.

The sky is pink, so obscenely pink, on the train back home that evening. Yu Yan feels quiet and heavy the whole night.

  
  
  
  
  


“So you’re the girl who’s been making my best friend all soft,” Yu Yan grins. Next to her, Keyin rolls her eyes.

“Something like that.” Xinwen is _all_ soft, soft features on a soft face and soft, wavy hair. She throws a downright fond smile in Keyin’s direction as the latter ambles over to the waiting area, then turns back to Yu Yan. “Well, thanks for trusting me with your hair. Just a trim, right? Like, five inches?”

“Yeah,” Yu Yan says as she sits down in the salon chair. “Looking for something fresh.” (More like: called Keyin last night in a fit of impulsivity and said, _Hey, you said your girlfriend does hair?_ )

Xinwen hums as she runs her fingers through Yu Yan’s hair, the weight of it coming down to her waist. “Five inches — here?” She touches the halfway point of Yu Yan’s upper arm.

Yu Yan looks at her through the mirror. “Sure.”

“Your hair is lovely,” Xinwen says.

Yu Yan smiles, a little. “Thanks.” She watches Xinwen spray her hair with water, measure it out with a fine-toothed comb, part it into sections, clip it up. Begin to snip. The measured intention of each action, its own careful surgery. Xinwen feels like someone safe.

“So how’d you meet?” Yu Yan says, surprising herself. “Keyin won’t tell me.”

She sees Xinwen blush in the mirror behind her, where she’s scrutinizing the ends of a bundle of her hair. “Um, karaoke bar,” she says. “I was singing and she jumped on stage with me and started freestyle rapping? Said she liked my voice.”

“Wow,” Yu Yan says, keeping her head very still as Xinwen picks up the scissors. “I clearly have to go out to karaoke with Keyin more often.”

“It’s fun,” Xinwen says, beginning to make delicate, tiny cuts, eyes still on Yu Yan’s hair. “I’m glad she came up to me.” She pauses. “Sorry if I’m overstepping, but Keyin tells me you’re going through some relationship stuff?”

Yu Yan winces. “Oh, no worries. Um… I don’t know if it’s a _relationship_ , but she just got a job in Paris. So…”

“Do you want her to go?” Xinwen meets her eyes in the mirror. Her gaze is kind.

“It’s her life,” Yu Yan says.

“Will you miss her?” Xinwen says. Somehow, the question doesn’t feel suffocating. Only — asking.

Yu Yan looks away from her in the mirror, still.

“You should tell her,” Xinwen says, her voice gentle. “At least that.”

  
  
  
  
  


“Why are you in outside clothes?” Yu Yan’s mom says as she sets the food down on the table by the T.V.

“So I don’t have to change in the morning,” Yu Yan says.

“Your hair’s shorter.” Her mom looks at her. “I can’t believe you came from my womb,” she says, quietly. “All grown-up. Even from the beginning, you were just like a little adult.”

“Mom,” Yu Yan says, feeling a little uncomfortable. She can’t think of anything else to say. She settles for patting her hand.

  
  
  
  
  


“Another misunderstanding,” Yu Yan’s mom tsks at the T.V. “Now they’ll never get together.”

Yu Yan scoffs. “He shouldn’t have slept with another woman.”

“He didn’t really. He was drunk.”

“That’s a pathetic excuse,” Yu Yan says. “She should go it alone without him.”

Her mom huffs. “She’d be lonely.”

Yu Yan pauses. The scene goes on. “Mom?” she says, her voice feeling small.

“What?”

Yu Yan feels frozen. “Nothing.”

They watch for another few seconds before Yu Yan works up the nerve to ask again: “Mom?”

“What, Yu Yan?”

“Are you… lonely?” Yu Yan thinks of the early days, just her and her mom and Wài Pó. It’s been a long time.

“No,” her mom says, eyes still on the screen. “I’m doing okay with myself. And I have you.”

Yu Yan turns a little to look at her. She puts her hand lightly on top of hers. “Yes,” she says. “You have me.”

  
  
  
  
  


Keni reaches over to her nightstand for a cigarette. “Deadline for Paris is Friday,” she says, lighting it.

“You must be excited,” Yu Yan says, uneasily. Her newly-short hair tickles the top of her chest. Keni had complimented it earlier. It had poked her face when they cuddled.

“Well, it’s Paris.” Keni’s tone is detached, formal. “It’s professional validation. But… I have new things here. New work. I just… I don’t know if it’ll pan out.”

“It’s a pretty big thing to pass up,” Yu Yan says. The morning air is blue in Keni’s bedroom — it’s cloudy today.

Keni stares into the distance. “Yeah.”

  
  
  
  
  


Yu Yan’s phone is ringing.

“Mom?” she says blearily. “It’s early.”

“The hospital,” her mom’s voice comes, a little harried, over the phone. “ _Wài Pó_.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


“Falls like this aren’t uncommon,” Dr. Zeng says to them in his office. “Your mother is strong. I think as long as we monitor her, she should make a full recovery.” He closes the file, then pauses and looks up. “Jenny? What are you doing here?”

Yu Yan turns abruptly to see her in the doorway, looking a little rumpled. “I couldn’t sleep… so I thought I’d get some coffee with you.”

“My daughter,” Dr. Zeng says in Chinese. “Yu Yan. Jenny,” he gestures, turning back to Keni. “Why don’t we get breakfast? After I finish up here, we can talk about your training in Paris. Yu Yan, can I grab you for a second?”

Yu Yan’s mom leaves. When the door is closed, Dr. Zeng’s shoulders slump a little. He looks tired.

“So you’re the reason she’s dragging her heels on Paris,” he says, calmly, and it’s not an accusation, just a statement of fact.

Yu Yan doesn’t say anything.

“The first time I saw her dance,” he says, and his voice lapses into something wistful, “She blew away all the other girls. I haven’t missed a single performance since.”

The thought _Did you see her modern show?_ jumps into Yu Yan’s head, but she bites it back. “She loves dance,” she says, instead.

“Do you love her?” Dr. Zeng says, somehow becoming more solemn than before. “This won’t affect your job, of course,” he amends. “It’s just… I worry. If she doesn’t take this job in Paris... She may never realize her greatness.”

Yu Yan nods, slowly. “I understand.”

  
  
  
  
  


“Are you okay?” Yu Yan says later, in her grandma’s hospital room.

Wài Pó smiles cheerfully up at her. “Of course! Seriously, all this fuss over a little stumble. How are you?”

Yu Yan blinks. “I’m alright.”

Wài Pó clicks her tongue, crossing her arms. “You’re talking to me.”

Yu Yan takes a breath. “Well… I’m just worried.”

“As long as it’s not about me, okay?”

Yu Yan shakes her head slowly. “It’s just… I’m scared that if I say something about myself, it makes it real. And then people will know it. And that might change how they see me.”

“Yu Yan. Listen to me.” Wài Pó takes her hand. Her eyes are clear, bright, and it’s like she sees right into her, like she always has. Yu Yan just hasn’t let people do that recently. “I will love you no matter what, okay? No matter who you are. What you look like. Who you love.” Her hands are firm and gentle. Yu Yan believes her.

  
  
  
  
  


Keni leaves voicemails.

_Hey. It’s me. Um… I just wanted to check in and see how you’re doing. Call me if you want, okay?_

_Hey, are you still coming around the theater tonight? Just let me know. Okay. Bye._

_Hey. I’m going into rehearsal in a few minutes, so my phone’s gonna be off until after the show. But am I gonna see you after work? … I’ll just talk to you later._

_Hey…_

_Hey. You know you can talk to me, right?_

  
  
  
  
  


Keni looks up as Yu Yan approaches. Her jaw is set. “Your hot dog got cold, so I fed it to the birds.”

“Careful,” Yu Yan says drily. “We don’t wanna train them to eat flesh.” She sits gingerly on the bench. Keni keeps looking at the water.

“So, how’s your grandma?” she says.

“Okay,” Yu Yan says. She glances sideways at Keni and then shifts to look at the water too.

Keni sighs. “Where have you been the last couple days?”

Yu Yan presses her lips together. “It’s been a lot,” she says, and every word feels like it takes something out of her. “Keni… There’s a lot going on right now. I’m sorry, I just… I’m not sure if I can do this.”

“Is this it?” Keni says, steadily, turning to look at Yu Yan for the first time since she’s sat down. “Is this” — she gestures vaguely at them — “not happening anymore? Because I’d like to know.”

“ _Keni_ ,” Yu Yan says. “I… I’m sorry.”

“You could have at least told me,” Keni says, and something in her expression slips behind her face again, and then she is standing up, slipping her hands into her pockets, and walking down the long river path, away, away, away.

  
  
  
  
  


Yu Yan slips off her shoes and pads into her mom’s living room. She’s ready. On the hour-long train over, she decided exactly how she was going to say it. Now seems as good a time as ever. Separate from anyone else: her fact. “Mom?”

“You’re just in time,” comes her voice. “She’s watching his plane take off for the States.”

Yu Yan rolls her eyes a little, despite herself, and walks closer.

“Stupid girl, he’s so obviously right for you.” Her mom is curled up on the couch, muttering to herself.

“Mom,” Yu Yan says. “ _Mā_. I need to tell you something.”

“This is almost over.”

“I don’t think this can wait.” Yu Yan sits down on the couch next to her and takes a deep breath. The blare of the television is deafening.

“Mom,” she says, her voice soft, clear. “Mom. I love you. And I’m gay.”

Her mom doesn’t react at all. She keeps her gaze focused on the T.V., but Yu Yan can see that her eyes get a little shiny. It’s a while before she says anything. In front of them, the drama plays on.

“How can you say those two things at once?” she says, finally. Her tone is scary because it’s quiet. Deliberate. “How can you tell me that you love me, and then throw that in my face?” She doesn’t move, her eyes still on the T.V. “I am not a bad mom. My daughter is not… gay.”

“Then maybe,” Yu Yan says, and her exhale is shaky, “I shouldn’t be your daughter.”

Yu Yan cries on the train home, in the empty car. _Fucking New York Moment,_ she thinks.

  
  
  
  
  


“We’re not speaking.” It’s Saturday morning, and they’re on the little balcony on the roof of her building. Yu Yan taps the end of her cigarette into the wind. 

Keyin flattens her mouth into a line. “I’m sorry.” Last night, Yu Yan had called her and she’d shown up just after midnight, a little bedraggled, the same old Keyin. _You’ve been through a lot today, huh,_ she’d chuckled sadly, then ordered Thai from the 24-hour place for them, mango sticky rice. Dai Meng had stayed up with them on Skype until 2 A.M., watching some vapid American chick flick. Today, Yu Yan is… processing. And grateful.

Keyin takes a drag and stares into the skyline. “So… you’re not gonna see Keni off? When’s the flight again?”

“Sunday evening,” Yu Yan says, without thinking, and adds: “We broke up.”

“Were you even a thing,” Keyin half-scoffs under her breath, and Yu Yan winces.

She sighs. “We broke up.”

“Okay?”

  
  
  
  
  


Inside, Keyin stretches herself across Yu Yan’s couch again. “So, what’ll it be tonight?”

Yu Yan pauses, and then finally types in the name of the old drama her mom’s been watching. She knows there’s one episode left. She’s just been avoiding it.

She puts the remote down and crawls up to Keyin, curling up to her.

“Haven’t seen this one,” Keyin murmurs over the couch-static frizz of Yu Yan’s hair, arms snug around her. Yu Yan lets herself be held a little, feel small.

“Shh,” she whispers. “It’s an easy story.”

The heroine appears. She’s pretty like a model, features strong and delicate all at once. Yu Yan feels a pang.

“I guess I just needed him to declare it,” the heroine says, voice proud through the screen, dressed in big ’80s furs, balancing a long cigarette holder. “Not just to me, but to everyone.”

  
  
  
  
  


Keyin leaves Sunday afternoon because she has a date. Yu Yan lets her go fondly. She’s just settled back into her work when her door buzzes.

She’s shocked when she opens the door. “Mom?”

Her mom looks meek, small. “I… have dumplings.” She holds up a plastic bag tentatively. “I… just wanted to say that I’m sorry.”

Yu Yan sighs. “Mom…”

“I talked to _Wài Pó_ ,” her mom says, and Yu Yan jolts.

“What?”

“I just… I know I might not understand everything, but I want to be here for you. We’ll be here for you. If you want.”

Yu Yan blinks. “I… I need to think about it.”

“Okay,” her mom says. “I just wanted to tell you.”

“Okay,” Yu Yan says. She takes the bag carefully. They stand across the threshold from each other in the quiet of Yu Yan’s floor hallway.

“You know…” her mom says. “That Zeng Keni… she seems nice.”

“She’s leaving for Paris tonight,” Yu Yan says, on reflex, before realizing it.

Her mom looks back at her, something soft in her eyes. “You like her, don’t you?”

  
  
  
  
  


J.F.K. International Airport is disgusting as usual.

Yu Yan scrolls through her notes app until she finds the flight details she’d hastily typed all those weeks ago, and runs.

“Keni!” she says, finally, catching sight of the familiar tall figure, the long camel coat. The figure stiffens and turns slightly.

“I have to catch my flight,” she says. Her gaze is cool.

“No… don’t go,” Yu Yan says, weakly. “Wait.”

Keni makes a light sound of exasperation. “Yeah? That’s what I do. I wait. I hang around, waiting to catch a precious moment with you… between your mom and your pager. I’m sick of it.”

“We’ll have more time after my residency,” Yu Yan says.

“It’s not the time, Yu Yan,” Keni says. “It’s how you feel.” Her voice gets louder, stronger, each sentence another arrow, piercing. “You’re too scared to look the world in the eye and let it watch you fall in love. You’re off and running without a fight.”

“I’m not the one running off to Paris,” Yu Yan cuts back, before she realizes what she’s said.

Keni’s eyes narrow. “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s for the ballet.”

“I thought you wanted to do modern,” Yu Yan challenges.

“What do you fucking care what kind of dancing I do?” Keni’s eyes are hard, diamond.

Yu Yan gathers up every bit of bravery she’s amassed in the past few days and pushes. “Fine,” she says. “Punish me by leaving. Don’t punish yourself by treating your dreams like they’re for shit.”

Keni looks at her evenly. Yu Yan can tell she’s struck a nerve.

“Alright,” Keni says. “Kiss me. Right here. In front of all these people.”

Yu Yan opens her mouth, then closes it. She swallows. Keni stares at her. Waiting.

She can’t do it. The moment the realization materializes for her is the moment Keni seems to pull herself up and turn away.

“Keni…” Yu Yan tries. “No, Keni, please.”

But all she sees is Keni’s back, her long dark hair, disappearing into the crowd.

“I’ll miss you,” Yu Yan whispers, too late, the words like defeat.

“I’m sorry, baby,” her mom says when she walks back to the entrance of the terminal. “I’m here.”

  
  
  
  
  


“Working late?” Yuxin says from the conference room computer as Yu Yan passes her.

“Not tonight,” Yu Yan says, grabbing her coat off the rack and sliding it on. “Planet China.”

Yuxin turns around in the worn black computer chair to face Yu Yan fully, a confused expression on her face. “It’s been, like, three months. Thought you didn’t have to do that anymore.”

“Mom insisted,” Yu Yan shrugs. “Have to be there tonight for some reason.”

“Wow,” Yuxin whistles. “Let me know what happens.”

  
  
  
  
  


“Late as usual.”

“Hi, Mom,” Yu Yan says, and then pauses. “ _Keyin_?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” Keyin grins, before Yu Yan jumps on her.

“Thought you said you were never gonna come to these things,” Yu Yan mumbles into Keyin’s hair. “What is going _on_.” She steps back and notices the girl standing next to her.

“Xinwen,” Yu Yan says, recognition flaring in delight.

Keyin smiles. “C’mon, let’s eat.” She takes Xinwen’s hand in one hand and Yu Yan’s in the other and tugs them both to the banquet hall.

Yu Yan’s jaw drops when she sees the table she usually sits at.

“Wait, _Yuxin_? Weren’t you just — ”

“Your friend Keyin pulled some strings,” Yuxin says, a little sheepish.

Yu Yan can barely nod before she registers the girl sitting next to Yuxin, petite and immaculately dressed, her face familiar from the photos Yuxin has showed her. “Hi,” she says, extending her hand, pearl earrings dangling like baubles. “I’m Xue’er.”

When she sees Dai Meng it feels like at least one thing is right. “Dude,” she whispers into her neck, “You _have_ to tell me what is going on. I feel like I’m about to get Punk’d or something.”

Dai Meng only chuckles. “We’re all just here for you, babe.”

The meaning catches up to her just as Yu Yan starts to look around the room. “Oh, _no_.”

Keni looks devastatingly, unsurprisingly beautiful, standing a few feet away by the piano. She looks up at Yu Yan’s stare and immediately turns to her mom. “ _Mom_ ,” she says, and they’re close enough that Yu Yan can hear her, even over the quiet buzz of banquet hall dinner conversation. “You promised she wouldn’t be here.”

Keni’s mom pulls an innocent face. “She hasn’t been coming for a while.”

Yu Yan shoots a glance at her own mom, who only looks at her and raises her eyebrows with an urging look. It all slides into place.

“Guys,” Yu Yan whines quietly, turning to the throng of people at her table. “This is embarrassing.”

“You’re being embarrassing right now,” Dai Meng says, no-nonsense. “Go talk to her.”

“You got this.” Keyin pumps up a fist, Xinwen nestling into the crook of her neck.

Yuxin nods. She’s holding hands with Xue’er over the table. For Christ’s sake.

So Yu Yan walks over, slowly. It’s funny, she doesn’t feel like all of Flushing is watching her now; or maybe she doesn’t care. The waltzers part obligingly for her like some Biblical sea.

“Hey,” she says when she gets there, Keni’s mom long gone, and Keni glances up. “Can we talk?”

Keni looks at her. She’s holding herself in a way that makes her seem far away. “You get five minutes,” she says finally. Yu Yan follows her uneasily through the crowd out of the big hall to a side hallway, under a paper lantern hanging.

“You… look good,” Yu Yan says. Because she does.

“Is that it,” Keni says.

“Of course not,” Yu Yan says. “I’m…” She sighs. “I’m sorry. I was going through a lot, but I should have communicated more.” She pauses. “I missed you.” It feels like relief to finally say it.

Keni bites her lip. The air hangs between them. “Honestly…” She exhales, long and deep. “I expected a lot from you and could have also communicated what I wanted better. I’m sorry too.”

“Wow,” Yu Yan says, surprised at them both. “Communication.”

Keni laughs, almost. “I was going to text you, actually. That I was back. But then all this” — she gestures vaguely — “happened.”

They smile at each other, a little timidly.

“Hey,” Yu Yan says, feeling brave. “Dance with me?”

Something opens a bit in Keni’s gaze, illuminated by the warm red of the lantern light. If Yu Yan could freeze this moment and keep it in her memory forever, she would.

“Yu Yan…” Keni says.

“Zeng Keni Jenny Zeng,” Yu Yan says, laughing at herself, and her voice is stronger than it feels. “I am asking you to dance with me.”

“I can’t,” Keni says, and Yu Yan’s chest plummets. And then something in Keni’s expression unfurls, like a rose blooming in tea. “There’s no music,” she says, rueful, shy, but Yu Yan knows she’s won.

Yu Yan smiles. “You know… I learned something from someone really wise once.” She’s giggly now, adrenaline-high. “Sometimes you just have to just… fall.”

Keni’s eyeroll is worth it.

“I missed you too,” she says, laughing, soft.

 _It’s funny, right?_ _You fall because you know you can._

Yu Yan holds her hand out. Keni takes it. In the hall, the band starts up.

Later, after the scandalized conservatives have left, Yu Yan will look around and beam at everyone, really: her mom and grandma smiling at her, like some sort of miracle. Keyin and Xinwen half-twirling across the dance floor because Xinwen actually knows tango or something; Yuxin and Xue’er somehow manning an impromptu college counseling booth — genuinely cheerfully, it seems — because word’s gotten out that they’re Ivy grads, before escaping to tear up the dance floor too. Dai Meng with some mysterious girl Yu Yan’s never seen before but is definitely going to ask about.

Later, they will all say good night to the _adult_ -adults and stumble out into the night market streets, Xue’er’s eyes wide at all the new sounds and smells, the night sprawling in front of them. Later, on the Uptown, after everyone else is gone, Keni will curl up against Yu Yan, comically lanky in the anonymous crowd, and interlace their fingers. They will stumble off the train to her elevator and take it up to the eighth floor, and Keni will say, _I missed this_ in the dark.

But that’s later.

Right now, they dance.

  
  
  
  
  


“Nice shirt, Jenny-ah,” Yu Yan’s mom says.

Keni smiles. “Thank you.” They’re all gathered at Yu Yan’s apartment, her hosting courage built up, gently encouraged by Keni.

“Now, Yu Yan,” Yu Yan’s mom turns to her, “Why can’t you wear something pleasant like that? Jenny is already so pretty and tall and you’re so short.”

Yu Yan sighs. “Because I like to be nagged.” She shoots Keni a _Help_ look; Keni just shrugs, gleeful.

“I’ll work on her,” she says to Yu Yan’s mom, and flashes her a brilliant smile.

Keni snuggles into Yu Yan’s neck as they look over her small kitchen and living room: Lingzi and Jiaqi talking enthusiastically to Keni’s (amicable) parents about contemporary dance as Dai Meng looks on, laughing; Keyin and Xinwen standing at Yu Yan’s window, trying to find some constellation with an app on Xinwen’s phone; Yuxin and Xue’er playing with Keni’s little cousins she’s watching tonight as Wài Pó looks on.

Yu Yan’s mom hums contentedly. “So,” she says, leaning towards Yu Yan. “There’s only one thing left. When are you two going to have a baby?”

**Author's Note:**

> [what follows is a long note but hey you already read 10k sooooo do whatever you want]  
>   
> \- this is set in the early 2000s, like the movie. yay voicemails!  
> \- i used the siken opening quote because in many ways, this fic is about trying to say things outright, and how the characters, especially yu yan, struggle with that (she eventually does it, and i’m proud of her). i think the way the film handles it (i.e. wil coming out while she and her mom sit watching tv) is really effective visually. in this fic, we see examples of not saying things outright, avoiding eye contact if things _are_ said, or saying things that mean other things (vending machine, boyfriend dinner convo, “just fall”). towards the end, we progress to more direct dialogue (yy coming out, grandma voicing support, mom saying sorry, yy and keni apologizing). sometimes, people help yu yan be more direct (dai meng “use your words”, xinwen at the salon, keyin “were you even a thing”).  
> \- found family is a major theme (cue rina sawayama - [“chosen family”](https://open.spotify.com/album/2CgNUv7fIONsE1m9GSl39t?highlight=spotify:track:3ChBKNAqgQCH0iMNbgv5kD)). i wanted to emphasize in this fic that yu yan’s family includes her friends: dai meng, keyin and xinwen, yuxin and xue’er. when her mom rejects her after she comes out, it’s keyin who she calls and comes to stay with her and make sure she’s okay, and dai meng who stays up with them (i wrote dai meng as skyping in because in this ’verse she lives in brooklyn, about two hours by train from yy). i love building characters with strong non-romantic relationships.  
> \- writing this was really interesting to me, both because 1) i had never written something so closely inspired by a script before and 2) i was changing some plot points, so writing scenes that referenced wil’s mom’s pregnancy (“are you lonely” “you have me”, the last line about having a baby) took on different meanings that i had to play with. the last line is supposed to be a joke and not any sort of serious pressure.  
> \- yes the drama they watch is supposed to be a parallel to what happens in the fic  
> \- chinese vs. english name is a thing here, especially for keni. i wanted to play with english being formal, chinese being more intimate. you can see this when her dad introduces her as jenny, how yy knows her as jenny first.  
> \- some random character deets that didn’t make it into the fic: in this au xue’er lives in sf and works at a law firm. xinxue two badass successful tauruses in a committed long-distance relationship just made a lot of sense to me. xinwen is a grad student at juilliard and a hairdresser at her family business. keyin runs her own apothecary. she has a kind of tumultuous relationship with her parents and keeps out of “traditional” chinese things. dai meng was originally going to study law (this is real!), but decided it wasn’t for her and now works at a design lab in brooklyn. her family is pretty supportive.  
> \- the quote about how nourishing your body is the “most, most, most important thing!” is a real keni quote, from that ep on body management in qcyn2 (“things like this i need to say three times because they’re that important!”)  
> \- wài pó (外婆) = maternal grandmother  
> \- [tāngyuán](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tangyuan_\(food\)) (汤圆) = glutinous rice ball dessert with assorted fillings, including black sesame (my personal fav)  
> \- wéi (喂) = “hello” (on the phone)  
> \- bā lěi wǔ (芭蕾舞) = “ballet dance”, literal romanization  
> \- tài piào liang le (太漂亮了) = “too pretty”  
> \- jfk airport is, as said in _cr4zy rich asians_ , “salmonella and despair”  
> \- i love xxxy so much, my sweet pisces/capricorn babies  
> \- [stan dreamcatcher](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W761DtH1oRg)  
> \- i seriously love this universe a lot and am thinking about writing more for the other characters!
> 
> no matter how little or much you have read, i appreciate you!  
> find me on twitter [@queqiaos](https://twitter.com/queqiaos)  
> tweet version of fic lives [here](https://twitter.com/directcutfest/status/1288595586569052161) (fest post) and [here](https://twitter.com/queqiaos/status/1288623932174667776) (personal post). interact as you wish!
> 
> -
> 
> This story is part of the LLF Comment Project, which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
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